


Stardom (and How to Tell You're Already There)

by Ad_Absurdum



Category: Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Smiths
Genre: Humor, M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Absurdum/pseuds/Ad_Absurdum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy has to get used to stage glomping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stardom (and How to Tell You're Already There)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Never happened, all slander and lies.

When Andy was younger and dreamt about being a pop star, he'd never thought the reality would turn out to be something like this.

Sure, The Smiths were "the best fucking band in the world" as Johnny once put it, and when they were kids the guitarist had always said that he was gonna be in "the best fucking band in the world" - there was simply no other option. Andy would have been content with playing with a "very very good band" or, if pressed, "the best band in Britain", but then Johnny had told him he should aim as high as he could, so Andy shut up.

And now he couldn't complain, really. Being in the best band in the world - or on the best way there - was kinda cool too. That wasn't the part Andy had doubts about.

His and Johnny's jokes about being "famous and filthy rich" also looked like they may come true sooner rather than later. Two singles released and something like twenty gigs played and Andy had no intention of finding faults in the whole thing.

All in all, from the old "sex, drugs and rock'n'roll" motto, the "rock'n'roll" and "drugs" parts were fulfilled quite satisfactorily (although Andy sometimes thought he should be more careful with the "drugs" part). It was the "sex" that was a little bit off. Andy had really expected a bit more... girl action from the whole thing. Oh, the girls were there all right, it was just that there seemed to be less of them than one might have expected. A lot less, actually.

The stage invasions were a prime example: if there was one girl among all the blokes who managed to outmanoeuvre security and glomp Morrissey, the event called for celebration.

Andy hadn't really expected a shower of women's underwear falling on stage (although he imagined that might be sort of nice), but he was really glad the backstage queue waiting for the band's autographs was a bit more gender-equal.

Andy sighed as he saw another bloke jumping on the stage and rushing to hug Morrissey before the security could throw him back into the crowd. He supposed he should've had an inkling as to how the things might develop back when he first heard Morrissey's lyrics. In his defence, at the time he was more preoccupied with finding his way through previously unheard material and then glaring at the drummer who was dead set on playing against him than paying attention to the words of "Handsome Devil". Although "I Want a Boy for My Birthday" did prompt a somewhat nervous giggle out of him.

Yes, in retrospect, Andy really should have expected something like that.

He watched another fan flinging himself at Mozzer and smiled as the singer twirled and ducked and despite that, still received a hug and a kiss.

Did he himself want similar attention? Andy scrunched up his nose in thought. It seemed the point was a bit moot as the fans invariably went for Mozzer and Mozzer alone.

Well, there was this one time when some girl jumped Johnny, but that was once and it was a month ago.

Andy was just coming to a decision that getting a hug and a kiss from some hot girl once in a while would be actually pretty great, when he spotted another two fans making their desperate way on stage. Oh, a bloke _and_ a girl now. Andy bit his lip to keep himself from grinning. You never knew, maybe the girl had a thing for bassists as well.

He saw two security guys heading for he pair, but as he looked down at his bass, from the corner of his eye he caught a movement slightly to his right. Three of them now? The stage security had their hands full tonight, he sniggered softly.

Suddenly the movement resolved itself into a dark-haired fellow who snaked around an amp and behind Andy, and the next second Andy's back was pressed flush against the fellow's front, two strong arms squeezing him and a mouth attaching itself to the back of his neck in a hungry kiss.

Andy sucked in a shocked breath and froze. Well, almost. Fortunately, playing "Hand in Glove" was practically automatic by now, but he still missed at least half of the ghost notes. The fact that the root remained intact was a small miracle considering it was five seconds later now and the bloke was still sucking his neck. Andy couldn't even jab his elbow into his attacker's gut because, well, his hands were sort of busy. Besides, it was ony a fan, right? Dubious shows of affection were probably part and parcel.

Andy ducked his head and shivered as the back of his neck was gently nipped. He missed another handful of notes and cast a longing glance at a burly security guy who finally noticed there were two people occupying the space normally taken up by one. The bloke at Andy's back too must have noticed the security finally got a clue because now there was a tongue licking up Andy's neck and then "love you" was breathed into his ear. And then the guy was gone.

Andy stared straight ahead, praying his blush and what must've been an utter mortification on his face weren't visible in the flashing stagelights. He risked a glance at Morrissey. Who was staring right at him, singing: "... if they dare touch a hair on your head, I'll fight to the last breath..."

Great. Just great. Andy quickly averted his eyes.

He'd never wanted anything as badly as this gig to end. It was a mercy this was their second encore and that it was drawing to an end. Yesss, there was Morrissey's unearthly yelp and they could finish.

Morrissey bowed and exited the stage, Andy hastily unplugging his bass and scurrying right after him. Hiding somewhere seemed like a great idea right now. Unfortunately, the only place to hide was their dressing room which was not a place conducive to a quiet freak-out.

Andy carefully placed his guitar in its case and started wiping the strings, hoping the others filling the room would conveniently overlook him.

Not a chance.

"There you are," Mike crowed, flinging himself into a chair at Andy's side. "You okay? That bloke looked like he was trying to suck all your blood out."

"Shut up." Andy's ears were burning again.

"Now now, no need to get upset." Morrissey was wiping his face in a towel, but that did nothing to hide his grin.

Andy almost did a double take. He'd never seen the singer actually grinning.

Just bloody wonderful.

"I think we're on the best way to gain a mass following," Morrissey said, still smiling. "Better get used to it."

At that Johnny, who had been packing his own guitar, guffawed with laughter. "I bet he'd rather have a girl giving him that love bite, though."

"What!?" Mike almost fell off the chair in his haste to see.

Andy's hand flew to his neck and in mute horror he realised there was indeed a sore spot where he was gnawed on.

"Fuck."

"Language, young man." Even Morrissey had a hard time keeping a straight face as he bent to inspect the bite.

Mike had no such qualms - he was shaking with laughter as he collapsed back on his chair.

Andy snapped his guitar case shut, irritated. He wanted to get up and get away, preferably to find a pub where he could get really drunk, but Morrissey's finger on the bruise stopped him unexpectedly.

"Does it hurt?" Morrissey poked Andy's love bite curiously.

"It does when you do that." Andy glared half-heartedly up at him.

"Hm, sorry."

Morrissey ran his fingers soothingly over the small bruise and Andy's breath whooshed out of his lungs as his stomach clenched. The touch felt shockingly erotic. Andy was vaguely aware that he probably resembled a rabbit caught in the headlights as he stared at Morrissey's face just a few inches away, while the man's fingers were stroking up Andy's neck and around the shell of his ear.

The spell was finally broken when the singer straightened up and turned away.

"For what it's worth," he said, taking a bottle of water, "I think it looks good on you."

Andy blinked. Somewhere to the side he heard quiet sniggering.

"War wounds and battle bruises." Morrissey smiled faintly. He took a sip of the water and handed the bottle to Andy. Their fingers brushed.

"How are you doing, guys?" Grant poked his head into the dressing room. "We're ready to go, but there's a bunch of people waiting outside. Better take pens," he grinned. "They want autographs."


End file.
